The Evil Principle

Heretofore, I have spoken of the blind hearts of others--of Mr.
Clifford and his wilful wife--I have yet said little to show the
blindness of my own. This task is now before me, and, with whatever
reluctance, the exhibition shall resolutely be made. I have
described a couple newly wed--eminently happy--blessed with tolerable
independence--resources from without and within--dwelling in the
smiles of Heaven, and not uncheered by the friendly countenance of
man. I am to display the cloud, which hangs small at first, a mere
speck, but which is to grow to a gloomy tempest that is to swallow
up the loveliness of the sky, and blacken with gloom and sorrow
the fairest aspects of the earth. I am to show the worm in the
bud which is to bring blight--the serpent in the garden which is
to spoil the Eden. Wo, beyond all other woes, that this serpent
should be engendered in one's own heart, producing its blindness,
and finally working its bane! Yet, so it is! The story is a painful
one to tell; the task is one of self-humiliation. But the truth
may inform others--may warn, may strengthen, may save--before their
hearts shall be utterly given up to that blindness which must end
in utter desperation and irretrievable overthrow.

If the reader has not been utterly unmindful of certain moral
suggestions which have been thrown out passingly in my previous
narrative, he will have seen that, constitutionally, I am of an
ardent, impetuous temper--an active mind, ready, earnest, impatient
of control--seeking the difficult for its own sake, and delighting
in the conquest which is unexpected by others.